about me

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

.if this dress could speak.

torn off the ornate brocade fabric of the palace walls she is draped with my rich, dense texture on her delicate frame. Under the dim metropolitan street lights
lining the Met, I saw my reflection in the passing cars as I fled
the the elaborate paintings of Italian Dignitaries and their dignified
wives. I didn't like their stares, their condescending elitist glares at her disheveled tresses and urban interpretation of
their opulent dresses. we stop momentarily to adjust her black suede
stiletto ankle boots to regain composure.

This is my rebirth, I
assert looking over my shoulder, my modern rendering of your classical
views.